


On the Wrong Side

by HalfChance



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendly Fire, Misunderstandings, More characters and pairings to be reveled later, Multi, Saved by the Enemy, Treason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfChance/pseuds/HalfChance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Title change from Am I On the Wrong Side) </p>
<p>After an encounter with Lugnut and the Elite Guard leaves Bulkhead severely injured, he begins to question how "good" the Autobots actually are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Betrayed and Battered

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly reminder that Transformers Animated actually happens a hundred years in the future, so this takes place more in 2114 Detroit than 2014 Detroit. Please excuse the slightly out of character dialogue. It's been a while since I've watched the show. 
> 
> The AU is mid-season two, when the Elite Guard is still on Earth, Blackarachnia hasn't been transwarped elsewhere, and the Decepticons still have Professor Sumdac. 
> 
> And with that in mind:

Lugnut had been seen in the southwest corner of quadrant 9, where Bulkhead had been out on patrol. He responded first, and raced the two miles from the northeastern corner of the quadrant with his lights blazing and speed pushing 145 kph. 

The Steelhaven responded back, reporting that they would be taking the whole ship with Magnus, Optimus, and Sentinel aboard to the location. Jazz, from his temporary position as communications officer, would have said that taking the whole ship would be overkill. But after their last attempt at capturing the Kaon Krusher, the ship would really be necessary. 

Prowl and Ratchet were put on standby backups while Bumblebee continued patrol in the other quadrants. The little yellow bot tried to protest and complain, but he was instructed to continue on his regular root or he would be grounded in the base for a decacycle. 

Huffing, he continued his leisurely pace through the three a.m. traffic in the financial district, stopping only to admire his touched up paint in the reflections of the large, dark bank windows. 

…

Quadrant 9 stretched over the half of Old Detroit that was once arcades, dance clubs, and movie theaters. Restaurants were also there, but were not as prominent as in the more residential and finical half of Old Detroit. Quadrant 9 was also the less seen half, as tourists usually looked over at quadrant 10, where the museums and memorials had been established. 

The buildings had long since been abandoned, with the exception of illegal drug labs and makeshift homeless people’s homes. The brick, cement, and asphalt of the once prosperous blocks had fallen into ruin, not only from neglect but from the bombings of WW3, all those years ago, in 2052. 

Most bots would have transformed back into their bipedal mode and walked to the threat. But, Bulkhead being an armored SWAT car with tires of at least a meter high, the deep potholes didn’t bother him too much. He actually enjoyed testing his limits. 

Transforming, he began to idly walk through down the street, glancing about. He stuck a finger on his comm button, reporting, “Bulkhead here.” 

Jazz responded immediately. “I hear you loud a clear, gentle giant. You spot the ‘Con yet?” 

“No, not yet, Jazz. Odd, though. I mean, Lugnut’s a bomber plane! Where could a bomber plane hide?” 

“I don’t know, bro. Keep on looking and comm back when you see the big lug. Sentinel’ll only tolerate one injured bot, and I’m lucky he doesn’t have me running laps on this leg.”

“Alright then, I’ll talk to you later Jazz. Just take it easy, okay?” When he got a response, Bulkhead removed his finger from his comm, turned his brights on and kept scouring through the city. 

…

His signal damper was working perfectly okay. It was the fact that he was ten and a half meter tall and the buildings barely rose above six meters. 

Tucking himself into a ball and turning all of his lights off, even as he dimmed his five optics, he still felt too conspicuous. 

Taking a sharp, deep inhale, he willed his fans to halt and waited patiently for Bulkhead to draw nearer. Just a bit more. When he rounded that corner, he would be able to jump up and take the Autobot prisoner, just like Megatron had told him to. 

A few more steps and he would be within reach…

…

The situation was bad. 

The Steelhaven had arrived just as Lugnut had engaged his POKE. Bulkhead had already been placed into a headlock, but the ‘Con had sealed the deal when he threatened the ‘Bot with his signature move. 

Optimus, of course, was a worrying, panicking mess. Not that he would truly show it but after all those solar cycles in the academy, Sentinel could sense it rolling off of him in waves. Long ago, he would have comforted his friend. Now, he wanted to exploit those feelings. 

“Ultra Magnus, sir, with all due respect, I think that the best approach to taking down the Decepticon Lugnut would be to shoot through the Autobot to get to the Decepticon’s spark, sir.” Optimus didn’t even have to look at Sentinel to know that he was smirking. 

“What? No, sir, we can’t--!”

To the Prime’s horror, Ultra Magnus paused and began to contemplate the strategy. “I think, Sentinel Prime,” he said haltingly, “that that is the best way to take down the Decepticon. Since he is threatening an Autobot soldier, his death will be justified.” 

Optimus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Sir, with all due respect, have you lost your processor? That’s Bulkhead down there. My teammate. An Autobot.” 

Ultra Magnus waved a servo at the Prime. “His family will be given a medal of honor in his name and he will be buried with the highest regards.”

“I don’t care about the highest regards or medals or any of that! I care about my friend!” Optimus’ outburst shocked them all, even the speaker. 

“Sorry, Optimus. But this is about ridding ourselves of the pests that are the Decepticons.” Sentinel was sneering again, and slapped his servo down onto the computer panel, leaning on it with his hips cocked out and one hand resting on his hip. “Computer, fire on Space Bridge Repair Autobot Bulkhead.”

“Cannot fire on Bulkhead. Friendly fire is not permitted.” Optimus felt a wave of relief so strong he almost fell back onto his aft. 

The relief was knocked out of him when Ultra Magnus responded, “Override, authorization Ultra Magnus.” 

“Confirmed. Firing on Autobot Bulkhead.” 

The shot was fired as Optimus screamed “No!” and lunged for the computer panel. 

…

The realization hurt almost as bad as the hole in his arm. 

Lugnut had seen the energy coming. He could have used Bulkhead as a shield. He could have left the Autobot there while he jumped away and into safety. He could have tossed the offlined Autobot at the ship as a distraction. 

But no. 

Instead, when he saw the gun warning and lighting with energy, he disengaged his POKE and tried to dive to the side, taking the bot with him. Lugnut was just a little bit too slow, though. 

Now there was a hole in Bulkhead’s arm that was leaking energon too fast for the plane’s liking. 

“We have to get away. Now.” The Decepticon was quick to act on his words, shooting smoke bombs at the ship before engage his thrusters at the highest speed they could safely go. The Autobot’s pedes left the ground and he would have relished in the feeling of his first flight if his mind hadn’t made the connection at that moment. 

His commander, his Primes, his Magnus, had seen him as expendable. His fellow Autobots. 

But Lugnut, a Decepticon, his sworn enemy since the beginning, had not only tried to save him, but was taking him somewhere safe. 

Sure, anyone else had tried to shot him, he would forgive them. Whatever, you were aiming for Lugnut and missed a little. Anyone, he would be panicking and trying to get away from Lugnut and back to safety. 

But Optimus was on the Steelhaven. Optimus knew they were firing on him.

And he hadn’t stopped them.


	2. Saved and Shouting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long summer of volunteer work and traveling, here is the second chapter, at long last. 
> 
> The third chapter is iffy. Not sure when it'll arrive or when I'll have time to write it out as the summer is not yet over.

There had been a time, long ago, at the beginning of the war when Autobots were just to never be trusted.

You did not interact with Autobots. You did not talk to Autobots. And you certainly did not save an Autobot’s aft from death, injury, mob bosses or whatever else crossed your path.

Those rules had been abandoned long ago, as Autobot defects were welcomed in as they were young warriors in an army of aging veterans and old historians. Decepticons held their arms open to the young femmes and mechs that came their way for a number of reasons, varying from biases to abuse of authority to conflicts of beliefs.

As Autobots became accepted as possible soldiers, Lugnut picked up a habit of picking up bots he saw wounded or in harm’s way on the battlefield or elsewhere and depositing them to the medical team of the base. The belief he cared was 1. we help them, they give us information/defect to our side and 2. the old Primus proverb of “spare the life of one and yours shall be spared as well” was something Lugnut strived to follow as closely as Megatron and the Decepticon way.

So when Lugnut did touchdown just outside of Blackarachnia’s lab and makeshift medical bay on Dinobot Island with an energon covered chest and arms, said energon coming in streams from a passed out Autobot, she didn’t even shutter an optic. She instructed Snarl to carry the unconscious Bulkhead to a medical berth as the group ran down the long hall. Upon arrival to the medical bay, Blackarachnia hooked Lugnut and Bulkhead together to an energon transfusion line and began welding the wound on the ‘Bot’s arm shut.

There was silence between the four for the next megacycle as Blackarachnia worked and Lugnut begged Primus.

….

“What’s going on in here?”

The question had come from a half awake and bed headed Sari as she stumbled into the main room in her pajamas.

Mere cycles after the _Steelhaven_ had touched down outside the Autobot base, Optimus, Sentinel, and Magnus were out of the ship and practically screaming at each other. They made their way to the main room, Optimus pausing his rant only long enough to put in the security code.

Jazz was still at the console, waiting for word from Bulkhead or the Magnus as the status of the Decepticons threat. When they entered, he rose, the automatic smile that he gave to everyone who entered withering when he heard their argument.

As he limped his way to the three, to break them up if necessary and calm the three, Prowl and Ratchet heard and also joined, asking where Bulkhead was and why the line had gone dead. After about five cycles of this, Bumblebee, who had returned from patrol before them and had been trying to get to recharge, had also become one in the crowd, asking what all the yelling was for.

Now, with the organic at their pedes, slowly growing more awake and aware by the moment, the weight of the situation hit almost all of them and the group suddenly lost their vocalizers. (With the exception of Sentinel, who simply hated the organic population so much that he refused to talk to any of them.)

“Sari,” Ratchet said at last, “it’s really late. Why don’t you back to bed?”

She heard him, but did not reply, instead looking around questioningly before asking, “Where’s Bulkhead? And why were you guys yelling?”

Ratchet went to answer again, but Sentinel beat him to it, answering her in the way he talked to every human: “Organic, if you can understand me, return to your quarters and continue with your version of recharge. Okay?”

His words were slow and his tone was soaked in egotistical attitude. Sari simply glared at him.

“I want to know why you guys were arguing and where Bulkhead is. Then I’ll go to bed.” She crossed her arms and spread her feet into a shoulder length stance, crouching a bit. The Earth team knew this stance all too well: she wasn’t budging until she got what she wanted and, unfortunately, this time she wanted answers.

Prowl, Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Optimus all shared an equal look of “oh frag” before Prowl sighed.

“Sari, come with Optimus and I. We’ll explain the, uh… situation.” Prowl began walking towards Sari’s room with the girl close on his pedes. Optimus turned to go before his shoulder was grasp by a servo.

He turned and looked over his shoulder. Sentinel was glaring at him with Magnus behind him, face twisted with a look of disappointment. Behind the two, Jazz looked…hurt? Worried? Scared?

“This isn’t over, Optimus,” Sentinel hissed before relinquishing his grip and turning to his superior and Jazz.

Optimus almost ignored him as he walked away. Almost. Then he remembered what they had done to Wasp when he just a suspect with barely any evidence against his innocence.

….

“Shot by his own superiors. Unfortunately, that’s something you’re taught in the Academy. I once thought that this organic thing was awful. The worst thing to happen to a femme or mech from anywhere in the galaxy. But, when I reconnected with the Autobots and began to talking to them again, watching their actions, I realize that maybe this spider thing isn’t so bad. It is what got me to switch sides and get a new perspective on life.”

Bulkhead had been saved, Blackarachnia transfusing enough energon from Lugnut to stabilize the Autobot and dizzy the Decepticon. She had welded squares of metal to the wound after filling the hole with a liquid metal she had crafted herself. The filler would allow circuits and wires to grow through it as naturally as they would with any other part of his body. And when the connections had been made, the filler would disperse and supplement the rest of his chassis.

Now the two Decepticons sat and idly talked as Lugnut drank oil she had infused with energon producing chemicals to help the plane recover faster.

“The only good thing I received from the Academy, aside from enough knowledge to put me in the scientist category, was my nurse training. Which was useless at the time as I was to be a Prime, not a medic’s aide. But, now, combined with being a scientist and stuck on Earth with a team of warriors, it’s quite useful, don’t you think?”

Lugnut nodded. He remembered when she had joined the crew of the _Nemesis_ after being transferred from the Lucifer colony when Megatron had requested a science officer and medic, preferably both in one bot.

She had jumped at the opportunity to get away from Straxus’ constant tyrannical reign of the colony and Megatron had gleamed at her being a former Autobot. Almost a Prime, too. She had so much knowledge that he had needed and had had her talk to Shockwave many a times to help him climb the Prime ranks, allowed her to fix Blitzwing (long story short, she had glitched him up a bit), and taught her the basics about wing repair she had lacked.

If Lugnut hadn’t known any better, he would have thought his leader to be courting the femme. (In those solar cycles, however, the warlord’s spark had (foolishly) sought after Starscream. Needless to say, he was crushed when his love had attempted to kill him ten times in one solar cycle.) But no, Megatron had simply seen past Blackarachnia’s exterior and revealed her potential.

There was a comfortable silence between the two for a cycle as Lugnut pulled himself from his thoughts and Blackarachnia forced away the memories of good times with Optimus and Sentinel, partying in bars and blacking out from too much high grade.

“So…” the techno-organic drawled. “How are the Constructicons adapting to the cave and life with you guys?”

Lugnut shrugged. “Well. They are doing very well actually. Adjusting nicely to their new life as Decepticons and not minding the Decepticon way or following Lord Megatron. Scrapper seems to be the more sensible one, as he has a thirst for knowledge and actively searches it out. He had a long discussion with Blitzwing the other day about Cybertron and its customs. Mixmaster is good at math. Very good, in fact.”

The plane slumped forward, recharge clawing at his optic shutters. Blackarachnia had noticed the instant he had begun talking. He only drawled like that when he was close to recharge.

“Here.” She got up, going to the mech and tugging on his arm. “I have a spare room you can recharge in.”

Lugnut didn’t budge. “I must inform my Lord of my capture of the puny Autobot. He must know of my success for the great and glorious Decepticon cause.”

When Lugnut didn’t roar glorious, Blackarachnia knew it was time to get him somewhere he could recharge. “I will call Megatron and inform him of your ‘successful capture of the puny Autobot.’” She rolled her optics when she said that, as that was Lugnut had promised Megatron solar cycles earlier when the Decepticons had been called together as a whole to plan and plot.

He seemed pleased by this, and rose without any further complaint or comment. Blackarachnia led him to the secluded room she had had to place a Blitzwing sized berth in. She had recently been studying the patterns and interactions of the three personalities of artificial triple changers during recharge and writing reports, which she had published in the New Kaon science magazine _Progress Thus Far_ and the trans-dimensional femme magazine _Venus_.

Only because of the wing support edges that protruded out of the berth did Lugnut fit. And just barely at that, too.

Lugnut hit the padding and fell into recharge like a rock hits the ground. His chassis relaxed and his arm slid from the berth, hanging limply over the edge. Blackarachnia didn’t bother to fix it. She simply turned and departed, mentally prepping herself for the call to the base.

She hated calling home.


	3. Awake for Two Different Reasons

Of course Sari was crying. What else was she to do?

 She sobbed, long and loud, clinging to a teddy bear. Prowl was wincing at her emotional distress. Optimus was feeling guilty.

“Sari, I… look, it was my fault, okay?” Optimus began lightly tapping her back as a way of patting it. “If we had been a bit faster, he wouldn’t be gone.”

“But we’ll get him back,” Prowl interjected quickly, trying to comfort the girl and the Prime. “We know his energy signal is out there, and he has an emergency comm connection number for when these sorts of things happen.”

Sari wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands, smearing the tears into long salty streaks across her face. “R-Really?”

Optimus knew, even as Prowl nodded, that almost none of this was true. There were no emergency comm connection numbers, and while his energy signal was out there somewhere, the real question was where do you even begin looking? They had no idea where the Decepticon base. It could be anywhere in the country, the world, the solar system. And on the map, Bulkhead’s signal was a spark in a roaring fire of Wi-Fi, TV broadcasting and cell phone reception signals.

But Prowl ignored the lies in his promise and simply smiled at the girl. “Of course. We begin looking tomorrow, scanning and checking alongside the Elite Guard. For now, though, get some sleep.”

She smiled and responded with a quick “okay” before crawling back to the headboard and snuggling under her blankets, a tiny head of bright red hair in a sea of stuffed animals.

Optimus was already at the doorway as Prowl rose and they both departed, closing the door behind themselves.

“First her father, now Bulkhead. At the very least, we have to find Bulkhead.”

Prowl’s words rang truer than anything Optimus had ever heard. He nodded briefly before departing for his own room.  

….

Shockingly, Megatron was not as bad at keeping Sumdac alive as the human had worried the warlord would be.

The Decepticons all admitted to running into organic, carbon based life before Earth, even recruiting most of them into their army. So it was no surprise when Sumdac found his, well, _cage_ , to have running water, a functioning toilet and shower with the necessary toiletries, and a bed, all located in a secluded area, away from the sight of his captors.

“We had humanoid allies in the war,” Megatron explained, “and when they needed a place to live, just like the rest of us, we built it for them and kept the blueprints. Just in case.”

Blackarachnia even stopped in every now and then to restock his kitchenette and check him for any problems.

“Respiratory problems? Severe headaches? Insomnia? Abnormal bleeding?” He said no to all of these, simply that he was tired from constant work. She would nod and tell him to contact her if anything did arise.

But nothing would and nothing had.

The professor’s only complaint was that he was worried about his safety when Random emerged from Blitzwing’s split personality. 

Icy was a good bot to converse with. Hothead ignored the human, thinking him too simpleminded and worthless to even terrorize the man. And Random. Random was the middle ground.

He would terrorize and scream at Sumdac, laughing when the poor man jumped in surprise, hands and shoulders shaking in fear. When Icy or Hothead or Lugnut or anyone else noticed, they would scold Random and push him away, yelling for him to back off.

And then there were the Constructicons.

All those two wanted were answers: “How were we created?” “What’s a Cybertron?” “What’s an Autobot?” “Why’d our paintjob change when we got branded?” “What’s up with this transforming thing? We couldn’t do it before. How come we can do it now?”

Sumdac answered as best he could, and allowed the other Decepticons to answer the rest.

The worst was when he was left alone. As everyone scurried by, working on their own individual jobs, he was left muddling through a project he didn’t know anything about, trying not to get in trouble. And it was during these times that he would ask himself if anyone was looking for him. 

Was Fanzone searching the streets? Were the Autobots looking high and low? Was Sari using her computer skills to the fullest and searching the web for anything about him?

He hoped so.

He hoped no one had forgotten about him.

….

As stated before, Blackarachnia hated calling the base.

She found herself dreading every moment she had to be face to face (even virtually) with Megatron or Blitzwing.

Not because of fear or hate felt towards the two. But rather, there were always awkward questions as to why she had stationed herself so far away.

And honestly, it was because she just wanted some privacy.

Her experiment to find a nonorganic body had been called vain, selfish, pointless, useless, a waste of resources, and many other demeaning things.

Blackarachnia would argue some, but not most. She said she wanted a metal body for health reasons. She wanted a metal body so she could handle things unsafe for carbon based life forms. She wanted a metal body for undercover missions, so she wouldn’t be so noticeable. She wanted a metal body so she wouldn’t have to have a special room.

But mostly, she just didn’t like herself.

And Blackarachnia knew that, in war, you shouldn’t make all of your research about you and your appearance. All effort was to go to winning, and your needs were the least important thing.

But still.

She just wanted to not be the freak in the room. She wanted to be completely independent, not needing organic foods along with her energon or needing a suit to go underwater or in space for long periods of time. She wanted to be a normal femme.

She wanted to be Elita-1 again.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

….

“Lord Megatron.”

“Ah, Blackarachnia. How are you?”

“Doing very well, my liege. You?”

“Hmm?”

“How are you doing, my lord?”

“Oh, yes, very well, very well.”

A datapad held between two gray servos, two red optics intently reading the words.

Clearing of a throat. The leader looks up.

“I, uh, I call on behalf of Lugnut, who arrived at my labs tonight, at about the human time of 21:57, with the injured Autobot Bulkhead. Bulkhead has been stabilized and Lugnut has gone into recharge for the time being, having given a good amount of his energon to the Autobot to keep the mech alive.”

“So Lugnut is successful in his mission then?”

“Yes, my liege.”

The human isn’t in the background. He’s presumably sleeping.

“Ah, good then. Thank you for telling me, Blackarachnia.”

“You’re welcome, my liege.”

“Just inform him to come here first thing tomorrow, with the Autobot and that will be—“

“Is zat bolthead Lugnut back yet?”

One thought on Blackarachnia’s part. _Oh no_.

“No, Blitzwing, Lugnut has not arrived yet. It appears Bulkhead was injured during the capture and is with Blackarachnia at her labs. Lugnut will be sleeping there tonight. He donated energon to stabilize the Autobot.”

“Blackarachnia?”

The femme internally winced, externally standing strong.

“Yes, she’s here on the comm if you want to talk to her. I am going to go recharge.”

“ _Gute Nacht_ , my liege.”

“Goodnight, my liege.”

The warlord leaves.

There are now a mech and a femme standing, separated by two screens and over eighty kilometers.

“Hello.”

“ _Guten Abend, meine Liebe_.”

….

He woke alone and in a bright room.

The lights were the first to hit his optics, followed by the strong smell of sanitizer flooding his olfactory sensors. He groaned, running a servo over his faceplates. Everything hurt. Especially his arm.

Conversation in the background. Two bots, and one had a familiar accent.

He tried moving to a sitting up position and only made it up to his elbows when he could no longer support himself and dropped back down. The cry of pain he gave was pitiful.

And apparently loud.

The conversation was hushed and the telltale clicks of pedes made their way to him. Servos were placed on his uninjured arm. They were bigger than Bumblebee’s but not as wide as Ratchet’s. Bulkhead would have frowned in confusion if he could have moved any part of his face.

He gurgled out a static filled attempt at “Who’s there?”

“Hold still. You’re too damaged to move. I have to redress your wound.”

Femme sounding. Very familiar femme. No accent. He knew he had heard her before.

Someone was applying pressure to his arm. He was too numb to feel pain.

Was it even a she? It could just be someone who had a high-pitched vocalizer. Like Bumblebee.

Where was Bumblebee anyway?

“All done. I’m going to try to get you into a sitting position now. But don’t move on your own quite yet.”

Oh yeah. Bumblebee is on patrol in quadrant 4. The business district. He usually stands there and looks at himself in the really large windows. He likes looking at his paintjob. And being kinda vain. Ratchet and Prowl are at the base. Doing… Ratchet and Prowl stuff. Probably being grumpy and meditating. Or grumpily mediating. Jazz was sitting up on duty. He’d injured a leg in a car accident. Could barely walk and was totally unable to transform. Sari should be asleep, but she might be on her phone. She stays up and does stuff on her phone. Might be texting. Might be reading. Nothing too important or dangerous.

And Optimus is at…

“Okay, here we going. I’m glad I got the berth to be adjustable so I could prop patients up. Actually got the idea from a human hospital. Humans, for all their pointless carbon based existences, have made some large technological advances. Mostly practical stuff.”

Optimus is on the ship. With the Elite Guard. The guns. And Lugnut. Old Detroit. Quadrant 9.

A blurb of black and purple appeared in his line of sight.

Optimus had wanted him dead. He didn’t care about him. He only wanted to impress Sentinel and the Magnus. That was it. That was all. Bulkhead was just cannon fodder in the Optimus’ optics.

 “Alright, you look okay. How do you feel?”

Bulkhead began to cry.

“Right. More pain meds then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, at long last. Updates are going to vary as classes have begun again, which means less time sitting at my computer typing things up. Hopefully I can get the next chapter typed and posted in less than three months. There's just so much to be done that I rarely have any free time anymore. >.


End file.
